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So, you're looking at a picture of Mary Portas and Melanie Rickey, one of Cara Delevingne and Michelle Rodriguez gurning, a snap of Clare Balding and her civil partner Alice Arnold being outdoorsy in weather-appropriate outfits. And then, the money shot — Ellen and Portia.

This motley crew represents the best we have to offer in the way of celesbian role models, and for gals like me it’s a real bore. I’m not a Cara or a Clare. Instead, I am quietly getting on with being one of the capital’s many smart, stylish, successful women in their early thirties who are in happy long-term relationships with other women. We might not have any celebrity couples to rep our corner quite yet, but hopefully the perfect girl-and-girl equivalent of glossy American style icon Olivia Palermo and Johannes Huebl, her flawless German fiancé, will swoon on to the scene soon. Make way Mum-mummies (Mary and Mel), Flashies (Cara and Michelle) and Fuddies (Clare and Alice), sophisticated lesbian couples are a tribe to be reckoned with… Meet the sapphisticates.

Sapphisticates

They cringe a bit at the word “lesbian” but they’re out and proud and will challenge anyone who dares stereotype or question their relationship, which happens. They don’t twerk about Shoreditch with gay abandon but don’t spend Sundays with children or animals either (shockingly they don’t “get” cats — not even LOL ones). Their idea of fun is Ottolenghi dinner parties, opening nights, art galleries, pop-up restaurants and savoury cocktails — but don’t worry, they can totally laugh at how pretentious they are. They wear Nike Flyknits and Kenzo at weekends, COS for the office. They work mainly in the media and are sensible but so not boring, honest — they’d even take that ayahuasca drug if they didn’t have a spinning class in the morning. When they’re not spending all their disposable cash on trips to New York (a Sapphisticate heaven) you’ll find them mooching around Clapton looking for a flat to buy. Right now they’re enjoying the spoils of their glamorous London lives but are planning on having kids, one day, and totally go in for family life. They’ll even invite their respective mums, dads and aunties over for Sunday lunch, when they’ll knock up a Jerusalem artichoke and goat’s cheese soufflé in a desperate attempt to prove they’re a better and more successful couple than their straight siblings.

Do say: “Which one’s Portia?”

Don’t say: “2-4-1 Jägerbombs at G-A-Y?”

Flashies

These girls want everyone to know they are having sex WITH EACH OTHER. If anyone raises an eyebrow at their PDAs, which can take place everywhere from a packed Tube carriage to a posh hotel lobby, they’ll flip them the bird and get back to tonguing. There will be something wildly inappropriate about their relationship. She’s half her age! She’s her art college lecturer! She’s friends with her mum! It’s all trucker caps, high-tops and Nineties R’n’B T-shirts in the shared wardrobe of their Brixton basement. They have a cat — it’s ironic, though. The ultimate Flashie couple make up and break up faster than Ellen Page on roller skates and social media is awash with their drama, which no emoji can quite express. Young, carefree and still into boys (for now), this duo is keen to be spotted in London’s coolest clubs and will happily put on a sexy Sapphic display that keeps the free drinks coming their way.

Do say: “OMG, you guys look so in love.”

Don’t say: “It’ll never last.”

Swoony: Olivia Palermo and Johannes Huebl

Fuddies

There’s nothing like a brisk walk around Hampstead Heath followed by a Nutella crêpe. Fuddies can be in their 30s — with a penchant for Uniqlo fleeces, book clubs and cosy nights in — but more often than not they’ll have been “married” for 20 years and refer to each other as wives, even though they had a ceremony in the Seventies when a “gay” marriage just meant a really jolly one. They’ll be doing it all over again, for real this time, next month and you can expect half of north London’s literati to be at the “intimate gathering”. These ladies, who probably work in publishing, think Soho is a hunting cry. They host salons at home and can’t remember the last time they went out for dinner, though they will attend a friend’s exhibition opening or book launch at a push. They thought about fostering once but decided to get dogs instead. They are pleased to see more openly gay women in the media but quite who or what this Cara de-thingy is they will never understand.

Find these power-mums pushing the twins through the streets of south-west London in a Humvee of a pram that other mothers cross the street to avoid. This couple are the Sheryl Sandbergs of mothering — efficient, in control and all-powerful. They feel oh-so smug when they watch hetero mums showing Daddy how to work the high chairs in Starbucks. Pah! What amateurs, they think. They are a four-armed mum machine and are ready to take on anyone who deigns to suggest that their kids will miss a father figure. They worked in banking before splitting the maternity leave and have slipped straight back into their uniforms of Reiss blazers and Whistles dresses thanks to their ex-Marine personal trainer. They live in Clapham but only after five halcyon years in Shoreditch, where they met at a party on the roof of South Place Hotel. They moved in together one month later. Mum-mummies are friends with other lesbian mothers and are highly competitive, signing up little Max and Anjelica for Chinese lessons before they even start talking. But it’s not all serious business, mum-mummies know how to let their hair down and wasted no time in employing a manny so they could dine at Berners Tavern and see Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit while it’s still in preview.